


Counting the Seconds

by Menthol_Drops



Series: Contra Vita Nostram [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Awkward Tension, Dark Dean Winchester, Dark Sam Winchester, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Older Brothers, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sam Has Self-Worth Issues, talk of murder as a stress relief method, the good stuff i was talking about begins now, which we all know but still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7115212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menthol_Drops/pseuds/Menthol_Drops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all begins with a murder in San Francisco, it will end with the death of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's no truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Some notes on this 'verse:  
> -the Supernatural exists and the boys hunt, but they also like to murder regular humans  
> -Dean's thing is Religious psychosis brought on by trauma from John's training, and also the fire. but mostly John. I hate john.  
> -Origin stories are parts one and two if you want to get some background info  
> -more characters will come in as the story develops in a parallel timeline to canon starting from "Heart" (2.17)  
> -chapters will be released in a weekly/bi-weekly basis. I have two jobs and class, i'll write as I can.  
> -I AM SO SORRY I LEFT THIS HANGING FOR LIKE, A MONTH. I PROMISE NEW CHAPTERS SOON.

Things don’t always go as planned. That was a truth that Madison had understood as a young child. Sometimes your boyfriend turns out to be an asshole, sometimes you get mugged at the pier and don’t lose anything other than blood because the psycho decided to bite you instead of taking your money. All little things, no matter, she was okay for the most part. Then the Winchester brothers rolled into town.

It wasn’t like she was _asking_ to get caught by them, she was just fascinated by the way the news stories seemed to describe them as extremely ruthless when she knew that they were simply doing a job, a realization that may not have happened until after she was caught, but oh well, what could she do about that? If somebody got in the way, that would become a different story. Being a hunter in a world that didn’t believe that evil in that magnitude existed was hard as it was, but it was downright impossible to hide the fact that Sam and Dean were not just Hunters of the supernatural, but also Hunters of sinners and producers of chaos as they were it was only natural that nobody could understand.  
So she had a plan: get their attention, flirt with Sam. He seemed to be the… saner of the two of them, and find out what they were like. Granted it wasn’t the best plan she’d ever had but hell, if it hadn’t worked as well as it did, she wouldn’t be strung up to a cross in the center of the church she had gone to her whole life, with Dean Winchester’s knife tracing patterns in her stomach, or found out that she was actually a werewolf, and had killed about six people for their hearts. She would say she regretted killing those people, specially that nine-year-old boy who had gotten lost in the wooded area in the park. She didn’t remember them, though, so she supposed it didn’t really matter in the end.  
Letting up on her stomach, Dean moved to grab a syringe from his pack. “You know, it’s fascinating that you had absolutely no qualms in killing other people, just to get our attention. I feel so honored right now, don’t I, Sammy?” Dean asked as he injected saline into Madison’s veins so she wouldn’t dehydrate.

“I didn’t know I had killed them! I just-” she sobbed as Dean slapped her face.

“Don’t make excuses. You must have at least suspected it, blacking out once a month can’t be chalked up to your period, sweetheart.” Dean laughed as he went to grab a new syringe.

“I don’t think you’ve been this excited about a kill since we cleared out the family that kidnapped me a few months back.” Sam replied as he stood from the pew he was sitting in. He had told Dean that this kill was his and his alone. He was still pretty tired after the last one. The pretty bartender they left hanging just inches off the ground behind the bar so she would look as if she was just standing there had screamed so pretty for them as they slowly carved her open, he just had to keep her as long as he could. The Succinylcholine injected straight into the spinal cord keeping her paralyzed as he worked her open. She had begged beautifully as her stomach was carved out of her body as slowly and as carefully as it could possibly be done. Then came her arms, a study in veins if he’d ever had one, bleeding so well into the floor and so wonderfully splattering the canvas that was the tarp beneath her. She’d also had the prettiest eyes, a frost-like blue bordering on white and the most beautiful eyelashes too. A shame they went out as fast as they did, honestly. Sam had never been one to revel in the kill as his brother did, it was mostly stress relief for him.   
But anyways, Madison. She was currently begging to be released, that this was not what she had planned. She just wanted to talk to them. Dean laughed “Well here we are, you deserve to be strung up here” he smacked her over one of the cuts and as she screamed he said “you’ve been a very, very bad girl, Madison”. She wouldn’t argue against it because she knew it was true. Dean chose that moment to cut the fingers off her hands and reveled in her screams.

“I didn’t think you’d actually pay attention to me.” Madison gasped as Dean began working the knife into her thighs. “I wanted Sam, I just wanted to know why”, Dean looked up from his work “if that is truly what you meant to do, then you wouldn’t have let us see you carving the heart out of that poor boy. He was nine years old, Madison. How do you think his parents feel?” Madison couldn’t reply as Dean chose that moment to push the knife deeper into her thigh, and as she screamed he she heard the sounds of Dean praying. He was about to kill her, and she was had never felt so relieved to be so close to death.

Sam came up to the cross, standing next to Dean as he performed the mockery of a prayer, more so a rite to ensure she wouldn’t come back as a ghost, and grabbed a silver knife to carve her sin into her chest, her screams would earn her no absolution, but at least they would bring her what she deserved. Dean finished the prayer as he dug out her eyes and stabbed her in the throat. As she died, the last thing she heard was the sound of her ribs breaking as Dean worked to tear out her heart, as she had done to those five people.  
Dean hammered the heart to the cross, just above her head. “It’s a shame they never last as long as we want them to.”

“True. If it were up to you, you’d keep them alive for weeks, but we never have the time to set up a place to keep them in.” Sam said as he started making sure their prints weren’t on anything important. He went back to where Dean was carving their initials into Madison’s body “come on, we have a long night ahead of us.”

“Fine, but you’re making the call this time, I hate talking to the operators.” Dean grumbled as he tossed a burner phone to Sam.


	2. Serotonin Summer Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night of fun, and a meddler that is more than meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHMYGOD IM SORRY IT'S BEEN FOREVER AND A HALF SINCE I'VE UPDATED  
> I had this chapter half finished for, like, a month now but between class and work my muse disappeared.  
> So sorry.  
> Have some fluff.

One call to 911, several hundred miles and a bottle of whiskey later, Sam and Dean found themselves in a motel room watching the news as they spoke of their latest work of art.

“A young woman, twenty-five years old, was found nailed to a cross inside Our Mother of Grace church in San Francisco, California. Sources state that she was tortured, had the word “murderer” carved on her chest and her heart… oh God… her heart was torn out of her chest and nailed to the cross as well. Police have contacted the FBI as this looks to be the work of serial killers Sam and Dean Winchester, who have a penchant for religious-themed kills and extreme violence. Reporting live from San Francisco, back to the studio.” Dean muted the tv as the shot showed the news anchors looking a little sick and very disturbed. It was actually kinda funny to watch the reporters try to not puke while they were on-camera, their faces scrunched up in disgust.

“They just don’t make ‘em like they used to, huh, Sammy?” Dean chuckled as Sam broke out laughing at the reporter’s faces.  
“Clearly not.” Sam wheezed out as Dean continued mocking the reporters.

“Why, back in my day, reporters were able to stomach talking about a little death!” Dean said in a mock-southern accent. “Kids these days, can’t seem to take the fact that Death is coming for us all.”

“Oh my god, Dean stop!” Sam was laughing hysterically, trying to catch his breath. Dean just kept on making jokes and quips at the newscast’s expense until Sam was no longer making sounds.

“Okay dude, I think we need to go to bed.” Dean laughed as he stared at the empty bottle of whisky on the table. Sam was totally smashed, having drunk at least half the bottle by himself.

“Party… pooper, you’re jus’ ann’yed I had more whishky than you” Sam slurred, coming down from his hysterics. He tried to stand up but ended up slumping back down onto the floor. Dean broke out laughing as Sam kept trying to get up but was too dizzy to actually go.

“Yeah, I’m sooo *wheeze* jeaaaalooous Mr. I’m too drunk to move!” Dean was laughing so hard he actually got dizzy. That hadn’t happened in as long as he could remember.

“Screw you, ‘m perfectly sober… There’s only two of you right now, when I’m drunk there’s usually three.” Sam pouted from the floor in front of the paisley patterned couch Dean was sitting on.

“Alright lightweight, time to go!” Dean said as he stood from the couch. He went to pick Sam up from the floor trying not to fall over from laughter. Sam was gonna have one hell of a hangover the next morning  
.  
“Noooooooo, I don’t wanna go to bed yet De’n. Can I stay up a couple more hours? Pleaaaaaaase?” Sam begged childishly as Dean carried him to bed.  
“Nope, sorry Sam. It’s time for drunk sasquatches to go to sleep.” Dean had to hold back another laugh at that.

After Dean got Sam into the bed he proceeded to clean up and prepare the supplies he was no doubt going to need when Sam woke up. Some of the hospital-grade Ibuprofen and Gatorade from their cooler should do it. Once everything was ready, Dean got into bed, ready to pass out the rest of the night.  
It didn’t work out that way. Bobby called him at around three in the morning yelling about some demon omens up in North Dakota. “Yah, Bobby, it does look like demons, electrical storms with that low level of humidity just don’t happen unless they’re involved. No, Sam’s gonna have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow, we’ll head your way when he’s better. Yeah, about three days. Got it, take care of yourself, old man.”

He couldn’t go back to sleep so he decided to go for a walk to clear his mind a bit, making sure to grab one of his knives just in case.  
About twenty minutes later a man dragged him into the alleyway he was walking past and put a gun to his back.  
“Give me all your money! Cards, cash, everything, or I swear I’ll shoot you!”

Dean said “alright, alright! Just give me a minute to grab it okay?” as the assailant pushed his gun deeper into the small of Dean’s back, sure to leave a bruise. Dean began to reach back but instead of grabbing his wallet, he grabbed his knife, turning around and quickly knocking the gun to the floor.  
“Listen, man. You can go and I’ll call it a night, no harm no foul, I’ll even buy you some food if you want.” 

“Nah, man, that’s bullshit. You’ll call the cops and get me tossed in the bin, just give me your money and I’ll be on my way.” The man pleaded. Dean sighed, thinking about it for a second.

“I’ll tell you something instead, but I’ll let you know that I can’t let you leave after. You won’t suffer anymore, but well… It’s your decision.” Dean countered. The man thought for a second and agreed.

“You’ve seen the news lately, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah, man, those Winchester guys are all over the place. Nasty pieces of work, aren’t they?"

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I know. I personally enjoy it, there is a certain art to it.” The man’s eyes widened a little. “man, they’re psychos.”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m one of them.”

The man laughed nervously “no, no way, you’re pulling my strings, man.”

Dean smiled, but it came out looking more like razors than an actual smile. “I’m not, I swear. It’s true, I’m one of them. I believe they call me the ‘religious schizo’. Kind of insulting to people who are, you know, actually schizophrenic.” He laughed as the man tried to back away, only to get pulled back.  
“I was getting kinda bored, anyways.”

The man never made it out of the alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos give me life.


	3. NOT ACTUALLY A CHAPTER

Hey guys, this might seem kinda weird, but I need help

This work was originally meant to go one way but it's done a complete 180 and basically nothing is coming the way I had planned it, not even the ships.  
This was supposed to be Samifer/Destiel but has started to take on a Wincesty tone in the last few days and before posting the REAL chapter 3, I want to know what direction y'all would prefer.

Option 1 is to keep going and see if the original ship plans work out, option 2 is to pick a ship side and keep it that way (which may not work out and feel forced either way)

Or y'all can give me suggestions and we can go from there idk.

thanks!

-Menthol_Drops


	4. Nothing is as Shallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things become hazy for our boys, and they set out for a case that may just have to do with that weird guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD LORD Y'ALL I AM SO SORRY!!!!!  
> I left you guys hanging for almost a whole damned year and I am so sorry!!  
> A few things:  
> I had been so busy over the last year I had almost given up hope of being able to pick this back up because the spark was practically completely gone, but I got a little push from one of you and decided to give it a go! I got this in about an hour so I may even post another chapter tonight :)  
> Tags have been updated accordingly, as well as the summary.

Dean went back to the motel room after disposing of the man’s body. Sam was still asleep so Dean went into the bathroom to take a shower, he thought it was odd, how the man had appeared seemingly out of nowhere to try and mug him, but then didn’t try to fight him much when Dean attacked him. 

“Why am I even thinking about him, he’s dead anyways, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Dean muttered as he got out of the shower and dried off, the flimsy motel towels feeling close to sandpaper on his skin. He stepped out of the bathroom, grabbing a pair of boxers, sweatpants and a thin shirt on the way to his bed. Smiling softly at Sam on the other bed, he slipped into his and fell asleep.

The next morning brought the sound of Sam heaving in the bathroom as Dean’s alarm clock.

“Doing okay over there Sammy?” Dean asked sleepily as he got up to comfort Sam. The only reply he got was a pained groan from Sam. He knelt down next to Sam and stroked his back as he left everything he had in his stomach inside the motel room toilet.

“Have you taken any pain meds yet Sam?” A small shake of his head. “Okay, I’ll be right back with them. Do you feel up to that yet or no?” Sam nodded, so Dean helped him get up, flush the toilet and rinse his mouth on the sink.

Dean helped Sam to the bed, then got a glass of water and the hospital grade Ibuprofen he had pulled out of his bag, shaking two pills out of the bottle. He took the items over to Sam and made sure that he could drink the pills without choking. “Okay, lay down and close your eyes, we need to head out to Bobby’s but I told him to give us three days so you could get better.”

Sam had fallen asleep again to try and get rid of the headache, so Dean made some coffee and brought out leftovers from the night before. Munching on the warmed-up pizza, Dean began thinking about the strange man he killed the night before. 

He’d have to tell Sam, of course, the two had an agreement that individual kills were to be shared. The issue was, however, that Dean couldn’t stop thinking about the man, he’d gone down easy when attacked and died without much pomp and circumstance, but still seemed to just… give up, not even trying to fight or plead for his life. Maybe he was suicidal, who knows? Not him, so he needed to stop thinking about it.

Sam woke up a couple of hours later, decidedly better and no longer looking pale enough to pass a ghost. Dean had been sitting on the kitchen table reading a newspaper. “I see you’re doing better.”

“Yeah, sleeping is the best cure-all, man.” Sam muttered groggily. Dean laughed as Sam stood to grab some coffee. Dean had been contemplating the situation from the previous night while reading up on a case, and upon deciding that it was as good a time as any to go grab some food, he asked Sam if he wanted anything.

“I’m okay, honestly, the whole nausea thing earlier left me not wanting to smell grease for a bit.” Sam replied in a way that felt more like avoidance than an actual answer. Dean frowned “Sam you literally haven’t had anything to eat in nearly 18 hours, I’ll get you something with as little grease as possible, but you have to eat all of it.” 

“Fine.” Sam turned away from Dean, grabbed his laptop out of the bag that was sitting at the foot of his bed, and sat down, petulantly ignoring Dean as he grumbled a goodbye and left to find something healthy to eat in the one-horse town they were in.

After Dean left, Sam was worried that he would have to admit the real reason why he was avoiding eating, but then rationalized that there was no point in being afraid of Dean finding out because one way or another it would end with him permanently out of Dean’s life. 

“It’s not like he would hesitate to kill me if he found out” Sam muttered as he looked up cases in the nearby areas. They might be serial killers for fun but they did actually hunt, after all. He was looking into some random acts of violence that had been popping up in Marana, Arizona, 31 miles north of their current hideout in Three Points, when Dean walked back in, holding two bags of food from different places.

“Do you have any idea how damned hard it is to find a healthy-eats place here? It’s literally close to impossible.” Dean was clearly disgruntled at the fact that he had to go out of his way for food, so Sam just took the bag with a quiet thanks and dug in as requested.

Dean was officially worried. Sam was acting up and he knew it had nothing to do with the werewolf girl, because he had been the one to suggest how to kill her in the first place. No, this was something else and while he was dying to know what it was so he could work on fixing it, or preferably killing it if it was killable. He knew that most of his attachment to Sam had gone from healthy to “what the fuck” levels a long time ago and he didn’t really care, he just wanted Sam to be happy, or whatever resembled it in his brother.  
By the time they had both finished their meals and cleaned up, Sam had mentioned the possible case to Dean, who had agreed that it was worth checking out, and if anything they could keep their current place as home base so as to not waste the money they had already put down for the week. 

They changed into their suits and set out for Marana.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love and kudos are too


End file.
